


The Elf Who Circumnavigated Arda in a Ship of Their Own Making

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Epistolary, Eru Worship, Gen, Languages and Linguistics, Mild Blood, Religious Elements, Sailing, Tolkien Gen Week 2020, literal messages in bottles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Three letters home from a Telerin adventurer.
Relationships: Telerin Sailor & Their Mother
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24
Collections: Anna's Trans Anthology, Tolkien Gen Week 2020





	The Elf Who Circumnavigated Arda in a Ship of Their Own Making

**Author's Note:**

> For [Tolkien Gen Week](http://tolkiengenweek.tumblr.com/) 2020, Day 4: Solo!
> 
> Inspired by from a throwaway detail from [chapter 7 of my fic ATATYA](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20398906/chapters/48384628):  
>  _Amras turned a page in the book he was reading, a fast-paced adventure Elrohir had recommended him about a Teler who was attempting to circumnavigate the globe after Eru first changed the world._  
>  The original idea was to make this an excerpt from that book, but I decided to go with a little epistolary fic instead about the same topic. Perhaps these letters became historical documents that the book was based off!
> 
> I referenced [this map](https://alchetron.com/cdn/arda-tolkien-d548b37e-2f37-4ee3-8d64-7af6bbb7bb2-resize-750.jpeg) of Third Age Arda while writing, though like all maps of its kind, it's fan-constructed.
> 
> Title shamelessly stolen from Cathrynne M. Valente's book _The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making._

Dearest Emil,

I am at the edge of known civilization, in the last coastal settlement where Quenya is still spoken. I am glad I paid attention in my language lessons as a child, or else I would have sailed from understanding as soon as I departed from Tol Eressëa; alas that Telerin is not widely spoken beyond Alqualondë and the Lonely Isle! But in addition to our native tongue and the standard one of Valinórë, I speak Sindarin, Adûnaic, and what little Khuzdul I could tease from the minds of Aulë's Maiar and those few Amanyar who had the honor to meet the esteemed Khazad. I have hope in my ability to decipher the tongues of any speaking-peoples I may meet further on my journeys.

I am not quite as far south as Avathar; even now, in this Fourth Age of Arda, no one is brave or foolish enough to linger long in those perilous lands. The local people—they are Avarin in origin, though some of their ancestors were Noldorin also, hence their knowledge of Quenya—say that they reside on a narrow neck of land, where the continent thins before widening again. It is only a day's journey westward to see the other side of the sea! But that is on horseback, and my ship cannot traverse such a distance over land. I will have to take the long route around the southern tip of Avathar.

It is here that I bid farewell to Helwalinyë, who will deliver this message back to you. She has been a faithful companion in this first stretch of my journey, and I regret that she will not accompany me further. But Ranyatië you named me, the wandering path, and I must wander this path on my own. Helwalinyë has a wife and children to return to, and I have only you. Never doubt my love for you, Emil, but the sea calls me, and I must sail on.

Ilúvatar in his wisdom and his grief has changed the shape of this world, so that it is a globe. I am too young to remember the ages before this alteration, but I know that the One would not have done so without a purpose. I seek to find that purpose, to visit lands hitherto unknown to the Amanyar, to find either the place that once was the edge of the world and sail past it, back to you. It may take me years, even centuries, but Ulmo would not have set this wanderlust in my heart if he did not wish me to see my journey through, and with his aid I shall return to you in time.

Until then,  
Ranyatië

* * *

Emil,

You shall most likely never read this message. When I have finished writing I will slip it into my last bottle and cast it into the ocean, praying that Uinen in her mercy will carry it back to you, but I have little hope for my letter or myself.

I have sailed around the coast of Avathar, and hugged the coast as I crept northward. At one point I thought I was near to that narrow neck of land where the last settlement was, and considered landing at that shore to make the journey back. But elation at my success made me overconfident, and I pressed onward instead of retreating—oh, how I regret my folly!

A storm came upon me a week ago, and Ossë in all his rage took the last of my rations to the bottom of the ocean. As an Elda I know I may survive longer than one of the Secondborn would in such a predicament, but I begin to despair. The sea now is as flat as glass, and I am hopelessly lost; my compass is broken and the stars by which I learned to sail are different here, utterly useless in navigation. If there was a breeze to guide my ship I perhaps could stand a chance at survival, but I fear my fëa will leave my hröa before I set my sights on land.

How strange that a Falmar who loves the sea as I should long for land! I set out scorning those who doubted my abilities to circumnavigate Arda, certain in my success and Ulmo's blessing. Now I doubt the call that led me here. I wandered along my path, uncertain of its end, and in my pride I lost everything. Helwalinyë would shake her head if she could see me now; she always told me to be more careful.

I am running out of paper. I have already lost all my ink: I write with my own blood, drained from a wound in my leg I sustained during the storm. I have nothing left but an empty ship and an empty heart. I love you, Emil, and should I perish at least I may see you again when Mandos releases me from his Halls.

Your child,  
Ranyatië

* * *

Emil! I live!

Praise be to Ulmo and Uinen and even Ossë: not two days after I cast my last, hopeless message into the sea, a great wave bore me from still waters to a rocky shore. My ship is damaged, but I can repair it. After all, I built it myself back in Alqualondë, and I would be a poor sailor and craftsperson both if I could not care for the vessel that bears me across this globe.

Yes! Locals! This land, further west than any of our kind has traveled—nay, it would be marked as the _east_ upon our maps—is home to many Atani. We have not the slightest vocabulary in common, but they knew me for an elf and summoned one of their friends from a nearby Avarin tribe to translate.

My studies of Primitive Quendian allow me to exchange a few halting words with this Avar, enough to tell him that I come from Valinórë. He was beyond astonished! The Avari in this far east are sundered enough from our common ancestors at Cuiviénen that he has little notion of the Valar—only of the One—but they have legends of those who were "taken west." What a joy it is to us both, reunited again!

My heart is bursting with gratitude to the Ainur of the Sea, but even more so to Ilúvatar, and this my Avarin friend and I have in common. I pray with him each night to the One, making me a friend in his eyes. Soon he will take me to meet the rest of his tribe, and together with the Mannish folk we will repair my ship.

I have still barely begun my journey, but my estel is renewed: truly you named me well, for though I wander in my course, I continue with faith in my purpose.

This letter, like the last, may never reach you, for I must deliver it to Uinen in the same way—but Eru's grace has spared me, and perhaps the One may grant me this mercy also, to send word home to my mother that I live and thrive.

The years may be long before we meet again, but I love you, Emil. When I arrive in a land for which my map has a name I will endeavor to send you a real message, but until then, my fëa reaches out to yours even across the vast oceans between us.

With love and estel,  
Ranyatië

**Author's Note:**

> I think Ranyatië succeeds in their journey eventually, and makes it back home to their mother - though I don't know if the second two letters made it! What do you think?
> 
> Emil is a Quenya word for "mother." OC names were developed from the [RealElvish.net](https://realelvish.net) name lists. As mentioned in the fic, Ranyatië means “wandering path” (from ranya “wander” + tië “path”); Helwalinyë means “pale blue pool” (from helwa “pale blue” + linya “pool”).
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/), and check out the [Tolkien Gen Week](http://tolkiengenweek.tumblr.com/) blog too!


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